


Go Back to Start

by HailsRose



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: F/M, Fluff, GG Shiro you tried. A for Effort., Oh look, Romance, and Mephisto is somewhere, because Rin can't seem to keep his hands off of the Kamikakushi Key or His Brother, hopefully suffering an anuerysm, spoiler warning, time travel nonsense, tsun but not so tsun Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 19:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16024406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HailsRose/pseuds/HailsRose
Summary: Life is like a board game. Depending on what you encounter and the type of game you play, one could amass lots of wealth, others could experience joy, and some will get sent back a few spaces.For Shiro Fujimoto, it's all in the luck of dice. Especially when he tries to walk away from Yuri Egin and fails spectacularly.





	Go Back to Start

**Author's Note:**

> [Small Spoiler Warning] If you aren't caught up with the manga (which is currently at chapter 103) you might not have any idea what is going on. I think as long as you've read as far as chapter 99, you should be okay.
> 
> This ust a sappy little thing I wasn't planning on posting. But then I finished it and decided I had to. Here's some no-good half-fluff, half-confused nonsense for your souls!

Life is like a board game. Depending on the game, each piece has a different objective. Some want to accumulate the most wealth and possessions, some are there for the sheer novelty of it, some play elaborately in an attempt to defeat the enemy King, and others simply want to reach the end of it first, like a race. 

 

And just like board games, life has its ups and downs. It could be finance, entertainment, loss, revenge. For Shirō Fujimoto, it was romance. 

 

Yuri Egin looked up at him with big, sad eyes. He felt cornered by them, trapped. They begged with him.  _ Please. Stay.  _ But Shirō knew better. A bitter, forced smile crossed his lips. He wrapped his fingers around Yuri’s wrists and pried them off of him. 

 

“I’ll see you at work, Yuri,” He said. Their mingling breaths billowed around them in translucent, cloudy wreaths. “Have a good night.”

 

She didn’t say anything, all the better for him. He was born with a stony heart and he was no stranger to Yuri trying to chip away at it.  _ Chink, chink, chink,  _ she went, with a little pickaxe and a promise to warm up his frigid interior. But Shirō knew, deep down he knew. He could never have anything nice. He had resigned himself to that fate a long time ago. 

 

His boots fell in heavy thumps against the snowy sidewalk. He didn’t dare look behind him but he had no doubt in his mind that Yuri was staring at him with her little mitten-bound hands pressed to her heart. If he looked, he might turn around and go home with her. He would just have to keep walking, pretend she wasn’t there. 

 

Truth be told, that was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. Not even fighting giant ents or gorgons required so much restraint. 

 

As suddenly as a light switch being flicked on, Shirō paused, warning bells going off in his head. He whipped around, looking for the source of his unease. All he saw were blankets of snow draping over the sidewalks and streets. He turned again, facing forward with the tenseness of a trained mercenary gripping his shoulders. His eyes caught on the form of a figure donning black. He started forward cautiously, fingers hovering over the pistol secured in the holster on his waist. 

 

“You should go back to her,” He said. He stood there on the corner of the street, a stranger to Shirō. 

 

As he got closer, Shirō thought for a moment the boy might have come from the Azazel Group of Section 13, his hair was white enough for it. But the more Shirō looked, the more he knew the stranger couldn’t be. His features were a little softer, his face a little rounder, his eyes brighter. The trademarks of the Azazel group were always the dark eyes and sharp jawline, white hair aside. 

 

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Shirō snapped, standing up straight. He always liked to give off an air of aloofness to his opponents; if he could get away with disrespecting their power, he would do it. 

 

The boy opened his mouth to say something, then closed it when he couldn’t seem to think of anything, then opened it again. 

 

“My name is Rin.” 

 

Shirō didn’t so much as show any kind of surprise. He was just more suspicious now. “Rin? What kind of name is that?” 

 

_ Rin _ wore an exorcist coat with the standard issue combat boots and gloves. That’s when Shirō decided that this was the last person on earth he’d take advice from. He had very little colleagues he could call friends and even then they weren’t technically  _ friends.  _ Just people he knew that he treated better than his lower-class subordinates. 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Rin said quickly, not making eye contact. He seemed nervous, a little bit like he was some snoopy cupid about to get in trouble just by being here. He shuffled his feet a bit. “Anyway, you really should go back to her.”

 

Shirō scoffed. 

 

“You’re the only one thinks so,” He muttered. 

 

“Not necessarily,” Rin corrected. 

 

Then Shirō noticed the almost obscure way Rin kept one of his hands out of view, right behind the corner. Rin caught his eye and gently tugged, making another boy come forward. Unlike Rin, he had dark hair and like Rin, he had bright eyes. There were three moles on his face, two on the left and one on the right side of his chin. He was holding onto what could possibly be a family member or close friend like his presence was a stress toy. 

 

“We both think-”

 

“Oh, shut it!” Shirō barked. “I don’t want to hear it from a couple of kids who are dressed like a living Yin-Yang symbol.” 

 

He turned around and stomped away, not seeing Rin’s miffed face or the way he comforted his sorrowful friend. Sorrowful about what, he couldn’t say nor did he care. Not at all. Nope, Shirō Fujimoto did not care about the either of those two in the slightest. 

 

Well, at least, not until he saw Yuri at the bus stop again.

 

Then he wished he was back there, beating the crap out of the both of them. 

 

Yuri only had to look at him with a smile and he was a dead man.

 

He ran to her.    
  



End file.
